It Is Good For Us To Be Here

"It is good for us to be here," Peter had said to Jesus.  Then he offered to pitch tents and stay.  Now, before someone wants to gently tap me on the shoulder and remind me that this is Good Friday and not transfiguration Sunday, I will assure you that I am not confused with the church calendar.  It is good for us to be here on this Good Friday.  We won't be staying; don't pitch your tents, but for this moment, it is good that we should be here.

I love Good Friday.  Glimpse any church and compare the attendance during Good Friday service with that of Easter and you will see that the day is not appreciated as it should be.  There is a lot of attraction to the bright outlook of Easter morning and while I love that service as well, Good Friday really sets the tone for me.  I like to draw myself into the somber mood of the day and feel the heaviness.  It is good to be here.  To feel the weight of sin.  The burden it has placed on my shoulders.  I have grieved God by what I have said and done.  I have grieved God by what I have left unsaid and undone.

We are moving collectively as a society to a dangerous position that God cannot be offended by our actions.  We pretend that our lusts and our greed and our unfaithfulness mean nothing to Him.  If God cares deeply for us as individuals then you cannot fool yourself into thinking that our sin does not grieve Him.  Sin will always be an affront to God; a matter He cannot overlook, just as a good parent cannot overlook the disobedience of their child.  He will never take it lightly for He sees the separation it causes; how His child pulls from His grasp.  If ever we should doubt how seriously God takes sin, we need only look to the cross.

That is why it is good to be here today on this Good Friday.  We must look our sin in the face and see the result it brought; the face of Christ, beaten and bloodied.  It is our sin that spat in His face and that stripped Him of His clothes and dignity.  My sin that spoke atrocities and that cracked the whip.  It was sin that weighted the cross He carried to Golgotha until He stumbled under the weight.  And the nails were sin piercing Him through.  It was sin that opened his veins and drained His blood.  It was sin that cast Him from His Father into death.

My sin and your sin.  Ugly, detestable, perverted sin that disfigured the face of Love.  My God, my God, what have we done?!

It is good for us to be here; to feel the weight of our sin.  My heart heaves under it.  It is mine for now to feel, but I won't be pitching my tent here.  For now, it is wise to experience this pain of sin, lest I forget to feel the release when Christ took it upon Himself.

If we are not willing to reflect on the greatness of our sin- to be repulsed by it, to see the effects of it in the lives of others, to recognize the offense we have committed against God- then how can we truly celebrate the gift that Christ offered on that Resurrection morning?  It is good to be here for a moment, so that for an eternity we can celebrate what Christ won for us.

Leviticus 17:6 "For the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves on the altar; it is the blood that makes atonement for one's life."
Romans 3:25 "God presented him as a sacrifice of atonement, through faith in his blood.  He did this to demonstrate his justice, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished- He did it to demonstrate his justice at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus."

   

A Seat Saved

Jesus knew His time was coming.  He didn't run from death.  He walked right into the face of it when He rode into Jerusalem.  He knew what He was doing; that He would be riling the Pharisees and Saducees just enough to send them over the edge.  In facing death, He spoke boldly.  He walked right into the temples and overturned the tables of the money changers.  Death or life, He ran His ministry the same way.

I might be going out on a limb here, because maybe I am a rare breed prone to morbidity, but I find myself contemplating what I would be like if I was dying- the kind of dying where I have a few sands left in the hourglass, but enough that I can get a few things accomplished before I'm taken.  I know you might think I'm choosing the wrong word when I say I sometimes daydream about it, because we imagine daydreams to be happy places and happy thoughts, but I daydream about it.  I think to myself, "If I was dying, maybe then I would have the boldness of spirit that I so lack now to tell people about the life-giving love of Christ."  Maybe they would listen, because the words of the dying are weightier.

The morning after the temple altercation, Jesus is heading back into Jerusalem with His disciples.  He goes to a fig tree to satiate His hunger, and finding only a leafy tree, He curses the tree and it withers.  Here's a thought: He could have just as easily commanded the tree to bring forth fruit.  He was, after all, hungry and cursing the tree brought Him no closer to resolve.  So why this elaborate display?  It wasn't at all about the tree, but the emptiness of the religious with their leafy coverups.  Might I add that the tree didn't get a death warning?  It was found useless and immediately cursed to an eternal useless state.  I don't know... does that give anybody else a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach?!

Can I just pretend to be bold here for a minute and ask you a challenging question?  What if Christ walked up to you today looking for some fruit; what would He find?  I keep asking myself that question.  The truth about me- the absolute, full self-examination truth- is that I treat Jesus an awful lot like a seat saver.  I've asked Him to save me a place in Heaven, but I haven't really joined Him for the pre-game.

And the real truth about Him is He's not just a seat-saver.  He wants to partner with us here on Earth to bear some real fruit for hungry and lost souls.  And it takes a bold witness to do that.  The kind that walks into the temple when the political arena is already heated and turns over the tables.  He ruffled feathers, okay?  He wasn't always this soft-spoken, warm and fuzzy Jesus that gets painted today.

The truth is the truth hurts and if I speak it, it might ruffle a few feathers.  Probably a lot of them.  And that's probably why I don't speak it boldly enough.  I'm not a feather ruffler, never have been.  I'm more of a seat saver.  I like to think, "Okay, I see we disagree. I'll just sit here waiting for your return.  Hoping and praying that you do!  I'll save you a seat!"

So let me say as I step away from my seat- He's right here among us.  Right now.  Even this week with all of the politically charged and angry energy.  He's right here.  He's not just hanging out in Heaven waiting for your arrival.  He's in our midst, searching for fruit.  And there are a lot of empty trees with supposed leafy goodness.  I'm speaking to Christians here, because a fig tree should produce figs and a Christian should produce Christ.  That is our job; to reveal Him to those who don't know Him.

I would like you to meet Him.  More than anything I would like you to know Him.  I get too scared most of the time to say it, because there are a lot of things that Christians have done that make people squirm in their seats or run in the other direction.  I get it.  I've probably caused some squirming myself. Anybody who knew me in high school- I'm sorry.  I'm mostly sorry because I called myself a Christian and poorly represented the name.  It is the most harmful act a "Christian" can commit.  I wasn't perfect then.  I'm certainly not perfect now.  I feel as though I am only at the beginning of letting God be the good work in me, but can you not let me get in the way of seeing Him?  Judge me how you want, but don't judge Him by my actions or anyone else's.  

So here's my fruit, small as it is: Ask me about Jesus.  I think I've been saving seats and forgot to put out an invitation.  Pull up a chair and let's start a dialogue about what He means to me.  I've been saving you a seat.
 

Hosanna!

They shouted, "Hosanna!" days before they would cry for his crucifixion.  Do you ever wonder what on earth happened?!  Hosanna means, "Save!"  They thought he would save them.  He rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and they called him "Son of David," rightly seeing the fulfillment of prophecy from Zechariah 9:9.  His would be the kingdom that will never see an end.  The streets of Jerusalem were wild with anticipation.  Yet, never had they been so wrong.  "Save us!" was their cry and save He did, but not in the way they imagined.

I imagine that first of Palm Sundays, myself in the crowd, because that's right where I belong among a crowd that testifies to a belief they have not fully understood.  I'm in the moment of praise where my heart is full and my throat grows tight with tears and all feels right in this moment.  I believe He has come to be my king and so I shout, "King!"  I believe He is blessed so I cry, "Blessed!"  I believe He will save and so I shout, "Hosanna!"  My heart stretches over the beauty of my children shouting those same words.  I am certain of God's presence and plan and I raise my palm branch in unity with those around me.  We have the long awaited king, who will establish a kingdom that will never end.  The oppression of Roman rule will be no more.  "Save us!" I make my plea, as I watch Him ride away and the streets begin to empty.

That's when everything gets confusing.  I go home and try to put the day's events in my Box of Expectations and it doesn't fit.  He isn't going to be a king.  He's been arrested and death is his sentence.  It's almost like He gives up and just hands himself over to the Romans.  It's pitiful, really.  I've heard about the miracles and now I wonder how they could possibly be true.  How could they be if he could find himself in this predicament now?  He's not saving me, if he can't even save himself!  I feel betrayed.  What is this that I have put my trust in?  A losing cause!  I am angry and I am hurt.  It isn't easy at first, but the words, "Crucify him!" escape my lips.  

Palm Sunday begs the question, "What is He saving you from?"  And if you don't have a solid answer, you run the same risk that the Palm Sunday crowd succumbed to of crucifying Him with the same breath that had sung His praises.  How else was the same crowd so easily persuaded in a matter of days?  They had expectations for Christ that didn't fit in His box of plans.  What about you?

I've mentioned more than once on this blog that I would have always called myself a Christian at any point in my life, but there is a clear period when my beliefs did not line up with a solid dependence on Christ.  In the same breath where I would profess my belief in Christ as the way to Heaven, I would have told you that there was no threat of Hell or the devil.  I called on Christ to save me, but I had no clear vision of what He was saving me from.  Maybe I thought He was saving me from making morally bankrupt decisions, but I was still making them.  Maybe I thought He was saving me from a much bleaker outlook on life, although it was precisely that time in my life when I struggled with suffocating depression.  I cried, "Save me!" but I can assure you I was on the cusp of crucifying the One who had come to save.  The threat to my salvation was that I didn't understand from what He intended to save me.

Do you?

Maybe you have called on Him to save you from some troubles.  Or maybe you suffer from a faulty moral compass that has lead you down a dangerous path too many times.  Maybe God is your can of Fix-All.  Got pain?  Call on Jesus!  Got fear?  Call on Jesus!  Lonely and unloved?  Jesus is the answer!  Addiction? Jesus saves!  And while I agree that Christ has saving power over all of these things, I beg you to call Him Savior for more than this.  Life will always have its troubles and once you realize that, you might be a little frustrated that you haven't been "saved" and call this whole God thing a farce.  But God's Word never promises that we will be free of sorrow and tribulation; at least not until we reach our heavenly home.

My question for you is this: Do you call Him Savior because you want Him to save you from life?
Beloved, He has saved you for life!  Life in the midst of sorrow, pain, tragedy, and even death.  I have been saved for this life, that I might live it to the fullest under the glory of God!  

Cry Savior, because He has come to give you life and life abundantly!  Cry Savior, because there is no other name under Heaven by which you might be saved!  Cry Savior, because He lost His to save yours!